Reel Thoughts

Under discussion:

Howards End  (1992)

What's an Oscar Flashback (tm)?  Read here:

Next on my Netflix queue was Howard's End, which was nominated for Best Picture and for which Emma Thompson won the Best Actress Oscar; Vanessa Redgrave was nominated for the Best Supporting Actress Oscar; James Ivory was nominated for the Best Director Oscar; Ruth Prawer Jhabvala won the Best Adapted Screenplay Oscar; Tony-Pierce Robers was nominated for the Best Cinematography Oscar; Ian Whittaker and Luciana Arrighi won the Best Art Direction/Set Decoration Oscar; Jenny Beaven and John Bright were nominated for the Best Costume Design Oscar; and for which Richard Robbins was nominated for the Best Original Score Oscar (film year, 1992; awarding year, 1993).  The other nominees in these categories were:

Best Picture

Unforgiven (Winner)

The Crying Game
A Few Good Men
Scent of a Woman

Best Actress

Indochine - Catherine Deneuve
Lorenzo's Oil - Susan Sarandon
Love Field - Michelle Pfeiffer
Passion Fish - Mary McDonnell

Best Supporting Actress

My Cousin Vinny - Marisa Tomei (Winner)

Damage - Miranda Richardson
Enchanted April - Joan Plowright
Husbands and Wives - Judy Davis

Best Director

Unforgiven - Clint Eastwood (Winner)

The Crying Game - Neil Jordan
The Player - Robert Altman
Scent of a Woman - Martin Brest

Best Adapted Screenplay

Enchanted April
The Player
A River Runs Through It
Scent of a Woman

Best Cinematography

A River Runs Through It (Winner)

L'Amant
Hoffa
Unforgiven

Best Art Direction/Set Decoration

Bram Stoker's Dracula
Chaplin
Toys
Unforgiven

Best Costume Design

Bram Stoker's Dracula (Winner)

Enchanted April
Malcolm X
Toys

Best Original Score

Aladdin (Winner)

Basic Instinct
Chaplin
A River Runs Through It

This film also represents the second of two Oscar-nominated dramas based on classical literature and the second of nine Oscar-nominated dramas topping my Netflix queue, just in case you were keeping track.

Aside from being nominated for a ton of and winning a few Oscars, Howard's End always appealed to me because I love British films, I like a fair few film adaptations of classic novels (The Age of Innocence aside), and I love many of the performers in this piece, including Anthony Hopkins and the ever-engaging Emma Thompson.  I knew nothing of the story, though, having never read the E.M. Forster novel on which the film is based, and this is probably my first conscious attempt at watching a Merchant-Ivory picture.  Essentially, watching this film represented many things to me, and, luckily, the film was charming, even if a little on the plodding and deliberate side.

Howard's End becomes a hybrid of commentary and subtle critique of British class systems, particularly in the early 20th century. Margaret Schlegel (Thompson), a bourgeois free spirit, befriends an upper-class woman named Ruth Wilcox (Redgrave), who is gravely ill.  At the same time, Margaret's sister Helen (Helena Bonham Carter), an even freer spirit, has some decidedly inappropriate relations with the eldest Wilcox son and also comes to meet Leonard Bast (Sam West - the BBC's Prince Caspian!), a working-class clerk and his Eliza Doolittle of a wife, as Helen inadvertently pilfers Mr. Bast's umbrella at a local lecture.  Awkward friendships and various conflicts and indictments subsequently abound. Margaret learns that Ruth is ill, and on her deathbed, Ruth, who is quite taken with Margaret, scribbles a note as an addendum to her will, leaving her beloved estate of Howard's End to Margaret, much to the chagrin of industrial lord Henry Wilcox (Hopkins), her husband, and her children.  They tear the note and bury the truth from Margaret, even as Henry's associations with her become more frequent, and he becomes enamored of her himself. In the meantime, Helen's friendship with Leonard blossoms into a sexually tense exchange of ideas and, eventually, a crusade for his livelihood after Mr. Wilcox offers the sisters bad business advice concerning Mr. Bast's current employer, which the sisters then relate to Mr. Bast, causing him to seek other, less stable employ. This attempt at undermining Mr. Bast by Mr. Wilcox begins a chain of events that ultimately results in tragedy and disgrace for Wilcox, while the Schlegel sisters stand firmly on their own two feet in the wake of the social upheaval around them.

Howard's End was, at its core, an enchanting story revolving around the human condition, connection, and a lovely piece of property that I would want for myself as much as Ruth Wilcox wanted it for her and for Margaret.  While social mores and propriety were examined in the context of three separate socioeconomic classes, such as they were in The Age of Innocence (thought that film centered on the upper stratus of the socioeconomic pyramid), the larger themes at work were, in some ways, more insidious, insightful, and meaningful than in Scorsese's film.  And while Howard's End focused on several different characters revolving in concentric and sometimes overlapping circles around the Schlegel sisters, the underlying commentary was never lost or scattered.  The story was satisfying and reached an acceptable and reasonable conclusion.

The reason why this film was nominated for so many Oscars was because, again, the production values of this picture were exquisite and superb.  Howard's End looked like something from a fairy tale; the art direction fueling the look of these turn-of-the-century English homes was painstakingly detailed, and the cinematographical shifts in light and hue of frame transformed Howard's End into that magical something that made it different from the stuffy Wilcox homes or the cluttered London flat occupied by the Schlegel sisters.  The film was as visually interesting as the story was engaging.

I occasionally felt bored, though, only because the pacing was a bit inconsistent, particularly about the time that Henry Wilcox begins courting Margaret.  I can only guess that the novel would likely have focused on Margaret's inner turmoil between appeasing her sister, maintaining her individual ideologies, and compromising with her stalwart and traditional fiance, but the film failed to fully flush out that turmoil, and the film slowed up considerably when some of the events felt like a middle-of-the-road round of exposition to stage some of Margaret's subsequent reactions.  The narrative flow was not interrupted, and it made sense and set the stage for the following events and ultimate conclusion of the story, but I did start to temporarily lose interest and to yawn somewhere near the end of the second third of the film.

All in all, though, there was an unmistakable examination of class that also seemed to be derisive of the aristocracy and mogul without being obvious or ham-fisted about it, and I think that's why I enjoyed and related to this film more than to The Age of Innocence. While James Ivory's direction lacked the panache of Scorsese, and while the visual presentation was, perhaps, less beautiful than the delicate details of The Age of Innocence, the result was organic and relatable as well as contextual with respect to the fact that the film is set in early 20th century England - after all, it is a very rainy country.

The performances were also wonderful in this film.  Every actor was engaging and interesting, with the possible exception of Nicola Duffett as Mrs. Bast.  She reminded me of an English Belle Watling from Gone with the Wind but lacked the charm of the actress who played Belle, and it was hard to feel sympathetic to her character, but, perhaps, that was the point, in order to draw a stronger viewer connection to Mr. Bast.  I have not seen any of the other nominees in the Best Actress category, but I think it's a good bet that Emma Thompson earned her little golden statuette because she made Margaret so warm and multilayered, funny, wise, tragic, flawed, and interesting.  Also, this character was able to experience many different emotions, and the suspension of disbelief was whole and complete thanks to Thompson's expertise at her craft.

Ultimately, I really enjoyed Howard's End because its palpable charm was so infectious, though the film contained some detracting minor flaws in the pacing and occasional performance that kept me from completely falling in love with the film.  As such, the film earns an 8 on the ratings scale for very good/minor flaws. I'm not sure if it passes the test.  The ending, though reasonable in lieu of the rest of the story, was a little sad, even as the rest of the film provided an emotional roller coaster of a viewing experience.  I might have to watch it one more time to be absolutely sure.  I am sure I would love to own an estate like Howard's End, though, as I am absolutely sure that I would recommend this film to anyone who might be captivated by such a place themselves.

Under discussion:

The Age of Innocence  (1993)

What's an Oscar Flashback (tm)?  Read here:

Next on my Netflix queue was The Age of Innocence, for which Winona Ryder was nominated for the Best Supporting Actress Oscar; Martin Scorsese and Jay Cocks were nominated for the Best Adapted Screenplay Oscar; Dante Ferretti and Robert J. Franco were nominated for the Best Art Direction/Set Direction Oscar; Gabrielle Pescucci won the Best Costume Design Oscar; and Elmer Bernstein was nominated for the Best Original Score Oscar (film year, 1993; awarding year, 1994).  The other nominees in these categories were:

Best Supporting Actress

The Piano - Anna Paquin (Winner)

The Firm - Holly Hunter
Fearless - Rosie Perez
In The Name of the Father - Emma Thompson

Best Adapted Screenplay

Schindler's List (Winner)

In the Name of the Father
The Remains of the Day
Shadowlands

Best Art Direction/Set Direction

Schindler's List (Winner)

Addams Family Values
Orlando
The Remains of the Day

Best Costume Design

Schindler's List
Orlando
The Piano
The Remains of the Day

Best Original Score

Schindler's List (Winner)

The Firm
The Fugitive
The Remains of the Day

This film represents the fifth of five Martin Scorsese films topping my Netflix queue, just in case you were keeping track.  This film further begins a couplet of Oscar-nominated dramas based on classical literature and a string of nine Oscar-nominated dramas in general categories, for future reference.

Yet again, my interest was piqued in The Age of Innocence because it’s a period drama based on a classic novel by Edith Wharton (which I haven’t read) and, therefore, another unusual experiment of Marty’s in his overall filmography.  While the setting is Victorian New York City, the location Marty knows best, in the late nineteenth century, it’s also a study of the human condition in operation at the time, which emphasized subtlety, propriety, and etiquette, particularly amongst the aristocracy and particularly as it applied to women.  Ultimately, however, the film includes some of the themes that Scorsese has incorporated in most to all of his films: what do humans, particularly men, do with tough choices, temptation, lust, passion, and the ensuing guilt and quest for redemption when sin or something like it is committed or flirted with by such characters.  Thus, in many ways, this kind of story, which would seem so divergent from gangsters and guns, is kind of right up Marty’s alley, and the production values of this film prove that he seemed to take a shine to it as much as he would the mafia or any of his so-called usual subjects. 

In The Age of Innocence, Newland Archer (Daniel Day-Lewis) has recently become engaged to May Welland (Winona Ryder), a member of another wealthy family and a sweet if naïve and shallow woman.  While attending the opera, May reacquaints him with her cousin, Countess Ellen Olenska (Michelle Pfeiffer), who, Newland comes to find out, has flown from her wayward husband, the count, to return to New York and is requesting a divorce, something ladies of wealthy and genteel standing simply did not do at the time.  As they were former childhood friends, Newland believes it is incumbent upon him to use his family’s good standing and connections to assuage Ellen’s deteriorating reputation.  At the same time, Ellen is a modicum of individuality and a free spirit; she has scandalous thoughts and opinions that fly in the face of aristocratic traditions, and they excite Newland to the point of unadulterated lust.  Thus, in order to stymie his burgeoning passion and keep within the social codes of well-bred manners and proper public behavior, Newland rushes to marry May, petitioning her matriarch grandmother to allow them to shorten their engagement.  Soon after his pleas to May that the engagement be shortened, and May’s growing suspicion that Newland may be dallying with another woman, thus coming to her in a wave of guilt and causing her to deny his request, Newland finds that he cannot hold himself back any longer, and he confesses his love for Ellen.  Though she may return his feelings, Ellen realizes that they can never be together because to deny May for her, in an act of volition that would only violate the traditions Newland finds himself an entrenched member in despite his yearning to walk on the wild side, would stifle Newland in a wholly different manner, so Ellen pushes him to May and leaves town.  Newland and May marry, but when Newland later sees Ellen again, his longing for her becomes so all-powerful that he is willing to engage in the affair with her, even as he realizes that May and the rest of their wealthy friends may know more than he has hitherto believed.

The Age of Innocence is a beautiful movie, in terms of its visual presence.  Marty and his production team, from painstakingly detailed art direction, to beautifully rendered period costumes, to colorful and bright cinematography, to a rich and evocative score by Elmer Bernstein that very much recalls the time period being recreated, the film’s presentation as something to purely observe was as pretty as a painting.  It was hard not to be drawn into such a vividly recalled world from a past long gone with the kind of layering that occurred between all technical aspects of the filmmaking, and the skill used in piecing together these layers is undeniable.

Marty’s signature styles are also evident, from strategically placed camera wipes to frames that morph from one scene to another in a seamless fashion.  He was able to match the subtlety of the themes being explored in the story with his own level of subdued bravado.  I could tell Scorsese directed this film, even as it was a film that I never would have guessed was ultimately directed by him, and the result was a marvel.  This film is certainly artistic and a wonderful addition to Scorsese's overall body of work.

The performances were also very good.  The best performance, I think, belonged to Winona Ryder, who was nominated for an Oscar for it.  I say this because she infused a sweetness in May which made her character ultimately sympathetic, sad, and strong, even as she was painted to be weak, frail, and ignorant of the larger forces at work around her.  Though Ryder has often overstated certain performances or been completely miscast or seemed to be Winona Ryder playing Winona Ryder all over again, none of those characteristics were noticeable here.  Her performance was as subtle as the story being told, and I forgot that it was her most of the time.

Day-Lewis and Pfeiffer also did well, but for them, I was less imperssed this time around, only because they have long-established track records.  Day-Lewis has played many characters of widely different temperaments and motivations, so such a straight character with his smoldering, barely erupting passion did not seem like much of a stretch for him, and Pfeiffer has turned in performances of varied emotional range as well, though at times, I thought of Selena Kyle and Catwoman during this film as I watched her.  Don’t ask me why.

The film also seems to be a wonderful adaptation of the source material, because I was never left for wanting in terms of the progression and resolution of the tale.  The problem is – the film was boring, in its own way, and I think it was boring because this type of story is better suited for being read from the actual novel than for watching on screen.  The visual presence was lavish, the performances were great, the direction was great – but, at least for me, this is not the type of story that sits well for two hours of viewing, and I think that there is a general reaction toward this film, about it being boring, that can be correlated exactly to the fact that it’s better as literature than as film.  Does this quality detract from the film?  Well, in a way, because I don’t feel it’s the type of film that can stand the test of a time, even as it’s understandable that this film would be an Oscar darling, considering that Oscar loves a good period film.  Of course, this really is a good period film – if you go in for this sort of thing, i.e. a study of subtlety, repression, and the other topics previously mentioned.

In any event, it seems 1993 was a tough year for Oscar competition, considering that it was the year of Schindler's List and Philadelphia and a number of other films that have since settled more permanently into the public consciousness.  These films also have a more timeless quality than this film, which plants two feet firmly into its lost-world days-of-yore period and may be less relatable overall than some of these other tales.

In any event, the Age of Innocence is a thing of beauty in its way, though it may best be appreciated in small doses.  Ultimately, I think the viewers who enjoy this film most will also be those who have a predisposition toward literature grounded in the Victorian era, which tend to explore similar themes and exhibit similar tones. I enjoyed watching this film for a while but ultimately lost interest in the story, because I tend to have little sympathy for the mores of so-called uppercrust society, and the human condition for the rich is only as compelling as the degree of connection that can be created from these wealthy characters to those who are not wealthy.  It is as it is. So, in consideration of all of these considerations, I think the Age of Innocence should be awarded an 8 for being very good/having minor flaws (because it can't be perfectly entertaining if I can't relate to the film in any way).  As to the test, it does not pass. Sometimes, a painting, like a film, is only worth one look-see, even if it's a very pretty thing to look at, indeed.

Under discussion:

New York, New York  (1977)

This film represents the fourth of five Martin Scorsese films topping my Netflix queue, just in case you were keeping track.

I queued New York, New York into my vast Netflix lineup because it was another one of those strange aberrations and experiments that crop up in Scorsese’s filmography.  This film intrigued me because it was a musical, proclaimed by Marty to be his homage to the Big Band era and to all of those big MGM and Warner Bros. musicals of early film.  Plus, it oddly featured Robert DeNiro, Marty’s go-to guy in the 70s, and Liza Minnelli of all people, the daughter of the biggest name in early film musicals, Judy Garland, and of one of early film musicals’ biggest directors, Vicente Minnelli.  Plus, it featured the debut of one of the most famous songs ever, which Frank Sinatra plucked from its celluloid a few years’ later to great commercial success.  By all counts, I was expecting to like this film quite a bit.  As it turns out, I have two admittedly harsh words to describe this film, especially since it does not appear to be a favorite of Marty’s either: “train wreck.”

In New York, New York, Bobby plays Jimmy Doyle, a veteran of World War Two, who on V-J Day in 1945, is looking for a little action of the female variety.  At a splashy dance, he encounters Francine Evans (Minnelli), a USO singer who, though she rebuffs every advance he attempts, has paid him more attention than any other woman in the joint.  After a few more screwball encounters, including a meeting in a hotel lobby in which Jimmy attempts to con his way out of paying the bill, Francine gives into Jimmy’s charms.  She even saves him during an audition for a dinner club, where Jimmy’s jazz sensibilities are not welcomed, and her pop vocal renditions are.  Jimmy gets the job, but Francine’s agent sets her up with a touring orchestra to ever-escalating success.  When she fails to tell Jimmy goodbye prior to leaving for this opportunity, Jimmy tracks her down, shimmies his way into an audition, becomes a member of the orchestra himself, and begs for Francine’s hand in marriage, at least in so many words.  What follows is the study of a romance-less, even loveless, marriage between two creative people at different points in their emerging careers.  Francine’s growing popularity irks Jimmy; at the same time, Jimmy wants nothing to do with the type of music in which Francine has found her niche.  The situation becomes even more complicated when Francine becomes pregnant and elects to return to New York rather than travel for the baby’s benefit, while Jimmy assumes leadership of the orchestra and watches as the success of the group deteriorates in Francine’s absence.

New York, New York contains a variety of different concepts, themes, and experiments in filmmaking.  The trouble is that none of them coalesce into a cohesive whole that makes any sort of artistic sense and which certainly does not make for an entertaining picture.

I watched the introduction that Scorsese provided for the DVD.  He indicated that he wanted to expand on some of the techniques he had used in previous films as well as incorporate other elements to emphasize the conflict between what is real and what is not real in this film.  For the realism portion, he encouraged improvisational dialogue between DeNiro and Minnelli, which had been used in earlier films, such as Taxi Driver.  In New York, New York, however, this technique proved to be an epic failure.  First, DeNiro was ultimately miscast in the role of Jimmy; I never bought him as a struggling saxophonist, but what’s more, he seemed to channel prior performances, such as Johnny Boy from Mean Streets and Travis Bickle from Taxi Driver, in a role that did not really seem to call for such channeling.  Jimmy had the same barely controlled anger and hyper-reaction, the same sort of underlying neurosis (if not psychosis) that his two-bit thug and traumatized veteran characters had, and the motif simply did not seem to work for the Jimmy character.  Jimmy has rage and reaction, certainly, but there was never any character development to suggest that these emotions should have been bubbling under Jimmy’s surface in the way they manifested through DeNiro’s interpretation.  The only facts the viewer is provided when we first meet Jimmy is that he is happy to be a civilian again, and that he wants to get laid – oh, and that he’s the most annoying lothario in the history of lotharios. 

Because of this performance, DeNiro and Minnelli had absolutely zero chemistry.  Even though they were supposed to be mismatched, in a way, because of their divergent careers, they never seemed to go together at all, which made what love they were supposed to have for each other appear to be contrived.  Thus, when it got to the clearly improvised scenes, such as their initial encounter at the dance, the dialogue, scripted or improvised, felt awkward, never made sense, and seemed to drag on unnecessarily.  I think both the stars and the director were aiming for comedy in these scenes, but any attempt at comedy fell flat amidst the poor execution of this concept.

As a result, DeNiro was thoroughly unlikable in this film, and I do not believe his character was really designed to be unlikable at all.  Minnelli was good enough, but she’s given better performances with better material to work with, such as in Cabaret, for example.

For the not-real portion, Scorsese and his art directors created sets that looked “fake,” or at least looked as if they belonged on a stage.  This concept seemed to work ok because, ultimately, Marty was paying homage to early film musicals, and the sets, costuming, and properties in those films looked like stage transfers too, though that was likely due to budget and other limitations not yet erased by the evolution of film.  On the other hand, the false anterior in every frame made everything more surreal, and surrealism, I would think, is counterproductive to attempting to portray realism at the same time.  Thus, it was an interesting experiment, on Marty’s part, to toy with both concepts, but their inherently conflicting nature made the film all the more awkward in its execution.

Furthermore, the pacing was ridiculously inconsistent, which is surprising and unusual for Scorsese’s films.  I think this, again, can be attributed to the fact that he had his stars improvise some dialogue while adhering to whatever script there was at other times.  The film was almost three hours long, when it could have been tightened with a better screenplay that both actors and director followed.  The film would get bogged down in the weird interchanges between Jimmy and Francine, which actually detracted from the natural flow of the story.  I stopped this movie five times from sheer boredom because the erratic pacing and lack of believability in the main characters undermined any connection that could be made with any part of the film.

The only exciting moment in the film arose from Liza belting that sultry title song in a way that Sinatra could never duplicate.  Unfortunately, her show-stopping performance did not occur until the film’s final ten minutes, and by then, even the inclusion of this number felt empty and anticlimactic.  It seemed that Scorsese, in his willingness to experiment, lost control of his control factors, such that the experiment itself spiraled out of control.  All in all, New York, New York was just a mess and one I am struggling to find positive aspects about which to comment.

As a result, I feel the film merits a 4.5 on the patented ratings scale, between nice idea/didn’t pull it off one bit and utterly mediocre.  I gave the film a half point because Liza can still sing, and the technical side of the film made some sort of artistic sense, even as the performances and general lack of direction in the direction did not.  As to the test, well, low ratings generally mean failure there too.  I couldn’t watch this again; it was hard enough to get through the first time.  I applaud Marty’s willingness to try something different as he honed his craft, but even he acknowledges that this is not his best film.  Personally, I think it might be his worst – though I haven’t seen every film yet.  Let me know if there’s a contender over and above this one for worst film in Marty's filmography.